


omnia

by sakurahaiku



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Beta, Wordcount: 100-1.000, reassurance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:02:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28607961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sakurahaiku/pseuds/sakurahaiku
Summary: And maybe Youngjo doesn’t deserve this. But Seoho doesn’t deserve him(He turns his phone over. He closes his eyes. He can feel them burn from dryness. A tiny match light in the tundra. He wills himself into the darkness, but it doesn’t consume him. Not yet. Not completely. Not enough.)
Relationships: Kim Youngjo | Ravn/Lee Seoho
Comments: 5
Kudos: 32





	omnia

**Author's Note:**

> This is unlike anything I have written for this fandom, and unlike anything I have written in a while. Hopefully you enjoy it!

**Y:** Seoho? _(9:57 AM)_

**Y:** Seoho are you there? _(9:58 AM)_

**Y:** Please pick up _(9:59 AM)_

**Y:** Baby? _(10:00 AM)_

It’s funny because Youngjo hasn’t done anything wrong. Hasn’t done something so egregious that would warrant being ignored like this. Seoho knows he must be worried. Knows that he’s concerned that something has gone haywire and that Seoho must not have told him. Knows that Youngjo must be terrified that something irreparable has occurred in their relationship.

But there’s nothing.

Nothing is wrong.

Seoho’s just not talking.

He feels as if he’s turned to un-melting ice. Somewhere he still exists inside himself, but right now he’s just some sort of shell. He’s freezing cold; he shivers with every breath. Seoho wants to feel like an inferno, a blaze, anything to jumpstart his body. He’s in bed, covered with as many blankets as he could find. He’s shrouded in layers, yet he continues to freeze.

Refuses to thaw.

**_3 Missed Calls from Youngjo_ **

****

And maybe Youngjo doesn’t deserve this. But Seoho doesn’t deserve him.

He can hear his heart beating, feels it pulsating. It’s too loud. The sound is deafening and there’s no blocking it out. He turns over and over, tries to find the angle from which he’ll be spared from the noise. He can’t find it. He wants to suffocate himself with his pillow, but he can’t muster the strength.

He’s mad. Angry. Furious.

He can’t remember why.

**Y:** Babe _(11:04 AM)_

**Y:** I’m outside _(11:05 AM)_

**Y:** Let me in _(11:06 AM)_

Seoho doesn’t let him in.

**Y:** I love you _(3:53 PM)_

**Y:** Are you alright? _(3:54 PM)_

He hesitates over the keyboard.

**S:** No _(8:42 PM)_

**Y:** What do you need baby? _(8:43 PM)_

**Y:** Anything _(8:44 PM)_

**Y:** I’ll get it for you _(8:45 PM)_

**S:** Nothing _(8:46 PM)_

He turns his phone over. He closes his eyes. He can feel them burn from dryness. A tiny match light in the tundra. He wills himself into the darkness, but it doesn’t consume him. Not yet. Not completely. Not enough.

There’s no rhyme to how Youngjo kisses, touches, loves. No pattern that Seoho has ever been able to map and describe. It’s erratic, unpredictable, all encompassing. To understate, it’s overwhelming. It’s been months and he still doesn’t know how to accept this, to understand why.

For every kiss Seoho gives, Youngjo gives five, deep and meaningful. For every brush of a hand Seoho allows, Youngjo envelops him. Every small moment of love he breathes, Youngjo is there with the sonnets, the roses, everything. Everything Seoho wants. Everything Seoho thinks he wants.

It feels wrong.

**Y:** You doing better babe? _(10:45 AM)_

Seoho hesitates over the keyboard.

**S:** No _(7:24 PM)_

**Y:** Can I come over? _(7:25 PM)_

It feels wrong

**S:** No _(10:28 AM)_

It feels imbalanced.

Seoho can’t remember when he last ate. His stomach feels empty, unused, like the tossed away husk of Pandora’s empty box. Unneeded, worthless, deadweight. He opens the fridge. It’s blinding. It’s too cold. He goes back to bed. There’s no responsibilities for him to fulfill. There is nothing.

They were friends before they dated, him and Youngjo. Seoho hadn’t been so distant then, Youngjo not so omnipresent. He understood the rules back then. Understood the mechanisms that made their friendship work. When it became more, Seoho felt the regulations change. He had been thrown into a game he no longer knew how to play, a childhood street that had been morphed to something so similar, so strange.

**Y:** I love you _(12:48 PM)_

And yet he loves him.

He loves him so completely, so whole heartedly. He fits with Youngjo so comfortably that he cannot imagine belonging anywhere else. It’s mesmerizing how much he loves Youngjo. He craves every breath Youngjo takes, every touch, every kiss. Wants to be held, smothered. Doesn’t want to be apart from him. Knows that Youngjo is his soulmate, his forever, his destined lover.

And yet.

**Y:** Please tell me what I can do _(12:58 PM)_

**Y:** Anything Seoho _(12:59 PM)_

**Y:** Babe _(1:00 PM)_

**Y:** Anything you need _(1:01 PM)_

And yet he wonders.

**S:** Hungry _(5:42 PM)_

**Y:** Hungry? _(5:43 PM)_

**Y:** What do you want? _(5:44 PM)_

And yet he wonders how he can be enough.

**S:** Anything _(9:52 PM)_

**S:** You _(9:53 PM)_

**Y:** I’m on my way _(9:54 PM)_

The sun has long since set when he opens the door for Youngjo. His lover caresses his face, places the take-out bag on the table. Strokes his knee as he devours the burger, ravenous, starving. Doesn’t question the silence, the unwashed hair, the tremor in his left hand. Looks at him with love.

He’s not mad.

Seoho thinks he should be furious.

Youngjo pulls him in to nuzzle at his head, before Seoho pulls away, grimacing, shivering. He’s dirty, unkempt. And Youngjo laughs, pulls him to the bathroom. He turns on the shower, pulls off their shirts. And he cleans him. And it’s so innocent, so caring, almost domestic. Youngjo fluffs his hair dry, and Seoho feels like collapsing.

“How?” he questions, as Youngjo folds him into bed, curls around him. He hums in response, eyes questioning, lips grazing his jaw.

“You give me everything,” Seoho’s hands hit his skin, fingers press into flesh, “And I give—“

“You give me everything,” Youngjo’s lips meet his, fleeting, “Is that why you’ve been sad?” Seoho can’t respond, just presses his face into the skin between his neck and shoulders, Youngjo’s arms encircle him, protective, safe.

“My everything and your everything look different,” Youngjo whispers to the dark, “But that doesn’t mean that you don’t give me everything too,”

And Seoho doesn’t understand. Not really. Not yet.

But Youngjo is warm and safe and loving.

So, he sleeps.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. 
> 
> I literally was trying to sleep, woke up with a start, wrote this all in a notebook, and then immediately transcribed it here. I hope it makes sense and I hope you liked it. 
> 
> It came from literally nowhere.
> 
> For reference, omnia is the latin word for "all" or "everything".


End file.
